


Shattered Mirror

by AngelQueen



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Character Death, Dark fic, Friendship, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrors are tricky things. They are windows to the soul, but what we see can easily become distorted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** SGA does not belong to me.

When she looks in a mirror, she no longer recognizes herself. At least, she no longer sees the fresh-faced, optimistic woman who walked through the Stargate for the first time, determined to face down every challenge thrown her way. Instead, Doctor Elizabeth Weir sees a hard, cold creature.

Change is a constant in life, and it has not left her at all unscathed. She is willing to do what it takes to win, to ensure the survival of her people, and if she comes out of it covered in the blood of someone who gets in her way? No matter. If she has to capture a few Wraith children on which to experiment? No need to hesitate.

For ten thousand years, the Wraith have kept this galaxy under their thumb. They’ve had no one to challenge them. They have culled and killed relentlessly, as though doing so were their divine right. When Atlantis rose again from the ocean, they were challenged for the first time since the Ancients abandoned Pegasus. Now for every culling or murder, they feel the sting of retaliation. One sting is an annoyance, but thousands can bring down even the strongest beast.

Total war in the Pegasus galaxy. She often wonders, with some amusement, what Generals Grant and Sherman would have thought of that.

The bottom line is that she will see Atlantis and its inhabitants survive, and nothing will deter her. Earth learned that the hard way when they attempted to send a team on the _Odyssey_ to wrench the city from her and her people. The ship barely managed to limp back to the Milky Way.

Weir doesn’t let herself dwell on her choices too often. It does no good to sit and fret over could-have-beens or maybes, but when literally faced with herself, she finds it difficult not to do just that.

She stares intently at the screen, watching her doppelganger inside the isolation room. She then looks at the other four screens. Rodney McKay. Teyla Emmagan. Ronon Dex. John Sheppard.

She flinches inwardly, but she is pleased to note that her hands do not tremble. She’s conquered that.

“Elizabeth?”

She turns silently and sees Carolyn Lam walking toward her, a small stack of folders in her hands. Her dark, normally expressive eyes are flat and emotionless, the picture of professionalism.

“Well?” Weir asks. “Do I need to open a wormhole to Earth and tell them I’m tossing their agents through again, and if they want them alive, they’d better open their iris?”

Carolyn smirks briefly, and then shakes her head. “As amusing as that would be to watch, not this time.” She looks down at the papers and then nods toward the five screens. “The DNA proves it. They are who they appear to be, even the other… you.”

Weir stares at them and murmurs, “An alternate reality?”

“It seems so,” Carolyn replies. “Rodney… _Doctor McKay_ even made a fuss when I examined him. Kept demanding that he only trusted a Doctor Carson Beckett not to ‘use a leech on him.’” She shakes her head. “I was able to assure him that I had no intention of poisoning him, though it took some doing.”

Weir isn’t all that terribly surprised. It seems only fitting that, even across realities, some things remain the same. Rodney McKay’s aversion toward medical science is a pleasant enough start. Of course, even with that, she can still see the differences. His insistence on seeing Carson Beckett, one of the doctors who had turned down an invitation to join the expedition, was proof enough of just how different this Rodney is.

“I triple-checked the results,” Carolyn adds. “The samples we still have on file for the others matched up perfectly.”

A chill sweeps over her, and Elizabeth clenches her fists for a moment. She abruptly moves toward the door. Tapping her radio, she calls, “Weir to Ronon.”

 _“Go ahead.”_

“Meet me in Isolation Room Two,” she orders. “It’s time we got some answers from our guests.”

 _“Copy that.”_

* * *

Ronon says nothing as he watches Doctor Weir speak to the… whatever she is that looks like Teyla Emmagan. She told him that she was Teyla, but not _their_ Teyla. This was Teyla Emmagan from an ‘alternate reality’, where things had turned out differently.

That’s obvious, actually. After all, this Teyla’s _alive_. So are McKay and Sheppard.

“Tell me again, Teyla, how did you come to be here?” Weir asks, her voice betraying no hint of whatever she might be feeling. Ronon’s curious to hear Teyla’s answer, and he listens, but he also watches Elizabeth.

He’s watched her for the past ten months, since Sheppard choked on his own blood and died right in front of her, just after watching McKay die in a puddle jumper explosion. Both of them died because of a foolish war begun by people on Earth who had no idea of what the expedition faced. She hadn’t taken either death well, and he’s since taken up what used to be Sheppard’s duty: protecting her from threats, even if the threat is herself.

She’s a far cry from the woman he met when Sheppard first brought him to the fabled city of the Ancestors. Ronon can’t remember the last time he saw her smile or laugh in a way that didn’t send chills down even his spine.

“Doctor McKay believes he can reactivate the portal if it has sufficient power.” Teyla’s last words break through his thoughts.

Weir stares at her. “So that is why you were on Hoff. You were hoping to find a power source.”

Teyla nods. “Yes. We were not certain how different this reality was from our own, but we did not think it had diverged so much that the Hoffans still existed as a people and were in a close alliance with you.”

Ronon listens to her words and wonders at them. The Hoffans are good allies. They’re determined to destroy the Wraith by whatever means possible, which is why he likes them. He’s read the early mission reports. There had been some minor friction between the Hoffans and the Lanteans over some experimentation with drugs on a Wraith, but after one trial of the drug on their people killed some of their most brilliant scientists, they had agreed to try another way with the help of the Lanteans, who counseled patience and more research before human trials. Were her experiences so different?

They have grown especially closer to them since breaking from Earth. Weir no longer hesitates to capture Wraith for them to experiment on. She even sometimes talks of capturing Michael again and sending him to the Hoffans. A kind of poetic justice, she once told him quietly, for what he did to Teyla. Ronon can’t agree more.

After several moments of tense silence, Weir says only, “Thank you, Teyla.” She then turns on her heel and leaves the room, not even pausing to glance at him. She knows he’ll follow.

He intends to, but not before Teyla catches his eye. She smiles at him, like his Teyla always did. He doesn’t smile back. He can’t – won’t – let himself get attached. Ronon’s come to know Weir enough to know that the moment she has a way to send these people to their home, she will.

Even if it’s only to avoid the stirrings of the remains of her own conscience.

* * *

Elizabeth has never liked the isolation rooms, and she likes them even less from the inside. She learned that when she was held by the Asurans. They’re cold, and they’re lacking in anything resembling privacy, which, she supposes, is the point.

Of course, she has also found little to like about this alternate Atlantis or its expedition members. There are so few faces she recognizes. Carson was not the one who examined her, instead it was Carolyn Lam, who is apparently not the CMO of the SGC, and would never in her dreams take a job where she had to work with her own father. Peter Grodin is still alive and in charge of the control tower, but with little of the wit and cheer that she had known before his death in her own reality.

John, Teyla, and Rodney are nowhere to be found. She hesitates to ask, because her other self does not appear to be a woman who invites questions. She won’t even let Elizabeth see her team.

This whole place bothers her. She could just kill Rodney for activating the portal before knowing what it was.

The door to the room hisses open, interrupting her thoughts. She stands up immediately from the corner of the cell, where she had wearily settled earlier, and faces the two people who enter the room. Ronon and the other Doctor Weir.

Seeing them stand side by side, Elizabeth is surprised to find that they resemble one another, in a strange, almost frightening way. Ronon looks much as she is used to seeing him, but Doctor Weir is different. Her other self is much shorter than the Satedan, and her hair is not at all wild or chaotic, but they both wear almost identical grim expressions that give away nothing. There’s a noticeable scar that runs down her cheek from the corner of her eye, following a tear’s path. Elizabeth wonders when the last time this fierce-looking woman has dared allow herself a luxury such as crying.

“You sought a power source on Hoff to use to re-power the portal, yes?” her other self asks without as much as a greeting.

Elizabeth blinks briefly, but then nods. “Yes,” she answers. “We had hoped to make it home without causing too much of a fuss--”

“Well, you failed,” her doppelganger cuts her off. “It nearly got you tossed through the Stargate back to Earth, where they would have likely refused to open up their iris.” The woman glares at her for a moment, but then shrugs. “No matter. I’ll have Zelenka and Simpson come up with something that you can use. They’re speaking with Doctor McKay even now.”

Elizabeth watches her turn, knows her intention is to leave as quickly as she came in, and cannot help but call out. “Wait! What about the rest of my team? Why won’t you let us out of here? We’re no threat to you or your people.”

Her other self turns and looks back at her. Elizabeth’s breath catches as the dim lighting makes the scar stand out even more on her pale face, along with her dark, harsh eyes. “Perhaps not,” she concedes, “but I have to consider the emotional welfare of my people. They don’t need to be confronted with the faces of those who are dead to them. The fewer that see the rest of your team, the better off we’ll all be.”

With that, she leaves. Elizabeth expects Ronon to follow, doesn’t expect him to say anything, as her Ronon probably wouldn’t have. But just before he steps through the door, he pauses to stare at her. “Don’t judge her,” he says. “You don’t know what she’s been through.” Then he too leaves, leaving her alone in the cool, dimly-lit isolation room.

* * *

“No no no!” Rodney shouts. “Is it possible for you to be even MORE incompetent in this reality than in mine?! How many times do I have to tell you, it doesn’t work like that!”

In truth, Rodney isn’t all that upset. He just wants to test the waters with this new Radek Zelenka and Fiona Simpson, to see just how they work and how different they are from the scientists he knows. Much to his surprise, they don’t even blink at his outburst. Are they used to it? Do they even care? Are these people Data-like androids in disguise?

He sighs. “Look,” Rodney says with deliberate slowness and not paying attention to the door opening, “this isn’t working. I can’t give you an accurate description in mere words. I need equipment to make you understand. I need my lab.”

“It’s not your lab, McKay.”

Rodney looks to the entrance and sees the other Ronon standing there, his expression… exactly like the Ronon he knows, really. The two don’t seem all that different, at least outwardly.

“Well, of course it isn’t, but you know what I mean,” he blusters. “My lab is waiting for me to come home, and that isn’t going to happen if you people insist on keeping me in here and letting the Fumble Twins here,” he gestures at the still-silent Zelenka and Simpson, “try to do what needs to be done without my help.” He straightens, trying to make himself seem just a bit taller than he actually is. “I need to get out of here.”

“Weir says you’re to stay.”

Rodney stares incredulously at Ronon, and then throws his hands up in frustration. “Well, then I guess I’ll be stuck in this depressing place full of pod people for a long, long time!”

Ronon doesn’t even bat an eye at his histrionics. Rodney considers stomping his foot in frustration, but opts against it. It never works with his own Ronon, so why would it work with an alternate version of him who isn’t all that different? Instead, he changes the subject. “So, can we negotiate about the food here? If I’m supposed to come up with something brilliant without all the information any other person would need, then I’ll need the brain food.”

“You get what everyone else in the city gets. Deal with it,” Ronon shoots back. He turns to the two scientists. “Did you find out anything new?”

“In between the ranting and shrieking, you mean?” Fiona asks wryly, speaking for what seems like the first time in nearly forty-five minutes. “Yes, I think so. Enough that we can work with for a while.”

“Good. Get to it.”

The two scientists nod silently and walk out the door, Ronon following them. Rodney stares after them in shock. Finally, he flops down on the floor. He wonders why his other self isn’t in here. If he could talk to him, then this might go better. He can communicate on the same level with him, and this could go so much faster with a less likely chance of him dying a painful, horrible death from Temporal Entropic Cascade Failure.

“This isn’t fair,” he mutters.

* * *

Weir stares at the door to Isolation Room Five. She’s dithering, and she knows it. She shouldn’t, not in front of the Marines guarding the door. It’s bad enough that she’s given them the job of guarding the person inside it; she shouldn’t show them that his presence bothers her as well.

Weir straightens her shoulders. This is ridiculous. She’s always been excellent at hiding her emotions. Even if this man’s other self always saw past the walls she built up around herself, that does not necessarily mean that he will as well, but then she recalls the scene in the Gate room when Major Lorne’s team brought them to Atlantis from Hoff. He was always careful to keep her other self close, and had even fought back when she was taken away for examination by Carolyn and isolation afterwards.

Weir doubts theirs is just a professional relationship. They are friends, good friends, just like she and her John were. Before the IOA’s stupidity got him killed, that is.

She gives herself a little shake and steps toward the door determinedly. She’ll do what has to be done, no matter the cost to herself. That’s how it’s always been.

She enters the room and finds him sitting inside the cell, leaning casually against one of the corners of the cell’s confines. He looks up when he hears her come in and their eyes meet. His expression is clearly guarded, but Weir thinks she might have seen a flash of some sort of emotion in his green eyes just before the mask comes down.

“So,” he drawls, “do I get to take in the sights any time soon, or am I stuck in here for the rest of my stay?”

For a moment, Weir debates on whether or not to answer him. She’s already had this conversation with her other self, she has no desire to repeat it. Maybe she should have sent Ronon to deal with him and gone to check on Radek and Fiona herself.

“I’m keeping you here for the sake of my own people’s morale,” she says anyway. “Your Doctor McKay is assisting my scientists from his own cell.”

He snorts. “Two Rodneys. I’d almost pay money to see that.”

“I’m afraid not,” she answers. She intends to add that they no longer have Rodney McKay around to save their lives at least twice a month, but decides against it. It won’t change anything.

Why has she come here? She could have easily sent anyone to tell him that there were people working to get him and his team home, but no, she had to come herself. Why? Just to torment herself, to remind herself of what she has lost? She has better things to do, such as preparing herself to respond to Earth’s latest pathetic demands that she and her people surrender Atlantis immediately or risk bringing down the wrath of the U.S. government and its allies upon them. She could be checking up on their latest weapon against the Wraith, or asking for an update from the Hoffans about their newest biological agent. So much to do, so little time, and she came here.

Weir turns, intending to leave, when his voice rings out again, this time with none of the mocking that he has been using.

“Elizabeth.”

She stops, but she doesn’t turn. If she closes her eyes, she could almost make herself think that…

No. She has too much to do.

She leaves.

* * *

John watches her go.

He doesn’t know who she is. She is a stranger with Elizabeth’s face. He knew that when he first saw her in the Gate room. The Elizabeth he knows would never have so little compassion, so little light in her eyes.

John has read the SGC mission reports where SG-1 encountered alternate realities. Practically every single one of them involved a galaxy facing some sort of great apocalypse. Even though he has seen very little of the circumstances of this galaxy, he has a feeling that this is no exception. Something bad, very bad, is happening here.

He leans back against the cell enclosure. He’s demanded numerous times to see his team, and has been rejected each time. He would try and hotwire the cell to let him out, but John is fairly sure that they’re watching him for that. It’s probably why they split them up in the first place. Separating them makes them easier to watch in different places, plus it’s easier for them to get honest information. There’s no way for them to coordinate any lies between them. John knows he’d do the same thing in their place.

Nonetheless, he wants to know what’s going on. He wants to know if his team is all right, if Elizabeth is all right. They took her away first and he hasn’t seen her since. He likes to think the other Elizabeth wouldn’t harm her alternate self, but again, she is a stranger. He doesn’t really know what any of them will do.

John’s already managed to gather a little bit of intel just by watching how everyone around him operates. When they were first brought to Atlantis, Lorne clearly took orders from her, so that hasn’t changed. The lights were all on a low setting, indicating that they’re attempting to save power. Ronon stood right next to her when she came down from the control tower and the marines took orders from him without hesitation. Clearly, his position here is much more than just being a member of the primary team.

He wishes he knew more. He might need it if he’s going to get his team and himself out of here and there’s a fight. If he knows the right buttons to push, he might be able to distract them long enough for them to make their escape. But he doesn’t have enough information at the moment. Right now, John knows that these people, these strangers wearing the faces of friends, are a very cohesive unit and it will be difficult to get past them with what little knowledge he has.

So he waits and watches people come and go. Hopefully, an opportunity to get out of here will present itself.

* * *

Ronon leans against the wall of Weir’s office, watching her fingers fly over the keyboard. Though she has long ceased to write report after report for the I.O.A. and Stargate Command, he knows that she still keeps something of a log of events, if only for her own benefit.

“Maybe we should let them out,” he comments.

She does not pause in her typing, nor does she look up, but she does reply. “It’s better to keep them isolated from the rest of the base. The less they are seen, the better off we’ll all be. Less of a chance that people will get attached, only to be hurt again when they leave.”

It isn’t the first time she’s said that, and Ronon wonders if the reason why she keeps repeating it is to make herself believe it.

“The quicker we get them out of here, the better off we’ll be,” he corrects her. “And the quickest way to get them out of here is to let McKay help Zelenka and the others.” She does stop then, and he presses on. “Everyone already knows who you have locked up, the damage has been done. Can’t get any worse letting people see them.”

Weir sighs. She sounds frustrated, though whether with him or herself, Ronon’s not sure. There are still many times when she is a mystery to him, despite the fact that they’re far closer than they used to be.

“Fine,” she concedes. “Let them out, but each of them is to have two marines with them at all times. Rodney is permitted into the labs, but only with Zelenka supervising. They are to be kept out of all restricted areas – chair room, ZPM room, jumper bay, everything.”

Ronon nods and pushes off the wall. “No argument here.” He’s just about to leave, when she speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I won’t be judged, Ronon, least of all by another version of myself.”

He nods again and continues on his way out, but as he moves through the Control room he can’t help but wonder if her other self judging her will have that much of an impact. Ronon can’t imagine her taking that from anyone; she has learned to live with her decisions.

Time will tell.

* * *

Elizabeth is nearly asleep when the door opens. The marine, a young woman she doesn’t recognize, tells her she is free to leave the isolation room. Once she steps out, she quickly seeks out her team. It doesn’t take her long to find them and the five of them convene together in the deserted mess hall. Their marine escorts stand at all the exits, giving them at least some semblance of privacy.

“I think we’re dead,” Rodney says suddenly, glancing around almost warily.

Teyla stares at him in surprise. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“Think about it,” he replies. “We’ve seen the other Elizabeth numerous times, and the other Ronon’s rarely far away from her. But while I was in that cell, they sent Zelenka and Simpson to ask me about what kind of power source we needed. If they want to send us home fast, the best way would be to send the other me in to get it done. They didn’t.”

“So,” John says slowly, “that means you’re dead? How do you know that you’re just not here? They’ve got Doctor Lam instead of Carson.”

“They recognized you, John,” Elizabeth cuts in before Rodney can come up with a sufficiently indignant reply. “And if the other you were here, he would have been the one interrogating us, wouldn’t he?” At his nod, she continues, “Ronon and the oth— _Doctor Weir_ came and spoke to each of us. Ronon asked the questions and probably gave his own recommendations.”

“You believe that Ronon is the head of the military contingent here?” Teyla inquires, somehow managing to phrase her query in a way that did not sound overly incredulous. Ronon still stares at her pointedly.

Elizabeth nods. “It’s possible. But right now, we just need to focus on getting out of here. That’s where you come in, Rodney.”

“Of course,” the Canadian said, rolling his eyes. “Yet again, it falls to me to save everyone!”

“The rest of us,” she continues, ignoring the scientist’s sarcasm, “are going to find out whatever we can. Something isn’t right in this city.”

No one argued with her and they went their separate ways, Rodney toward the labs to meet with the scientists, Teyla and Ronon toward the training rooms in the hopes of finding some marines who might be talkative. That left Elizabeth and John alone with their escorts. Slowly, they walk down the hall.

“The hologram room, maybe?” John suggests. “If they’re anything like us, the might also be keeping a record in there for the database.”

Elizabeth nods. “That’s what I had in mind,” she agrees.

As they move, their escorts close behind them, John says lowly, “She came to see me. The other you.”

She glances in his direction. “Really? What did she say?”

“Not much,” he admits. “I get the feeling that Rodney may be right. I made the comment that it would be entertaining to see two Rodney McKays trying to work together without tripping over each other’s egos, and she said that wasn’t what was happening.”

“I see. Well, maybe there are answers in the hologram room.”

The rest of their trip is spent in silence and when they arrive at their destination, their Marines do not stop them from entering the room, but take up stations outside every door leading out.

Elizabeth steps up to the console and glances at a few of the familiar controls. “I hope they haven’t deactivated it,” she murmurs. “It does draw an enormous amount of power if used too often.”

John leans over her shoulder. “We shouldn’t be using it for too long, so it won’t use up too much juice.”

She presses a few of the buttons and within a moment, a hologram appears. Elizabeth blinks. “Well,” she comments, “that’s different.” Instead of the image of Ganos Lal, as she had expected, before them both is a male figure, one she also recognizes. “It’s Moros,” she explains to John. “He later became Merlin on Earth.”

“A different hologram,” John says slowly. “A little difference.”

Elizabeth nods, and then speaks to the hologram, “Could you please tell us when humans came to Atlantis after it was abandoned beneath the ocean?”

“Approximately five-point-four-four years ago, Lantean standard time,” the hologram replies promptly. “The first human to enter the city was Colonel Marshall Sumner, now deceased.”

So Colonel Sumner is also dead in this reality, Elizabeth thinks sadly. She glances over at John, and decides not to pursue the exact circumstances of his demise. Instead, she instructs, “List the senior personnel of the Atlantis Expedition.”

“Doctor Elizabeth Weir, civilian leader, Doctor Radek Zelenka, chief scientist, Doctor Carolyn Lam, chief surgeon, and Ronon Dex, acting chief military officer,” it recites.

“Looks like you were right about Ronon,” John comments.

“It seems so,” she says. “Though it did say ‘acting’. It might not be permanent.” She taps a few more controls and prepares to ask more involved questions.

* * *

It is a cloudy day, which only adds to the faint chill in the air. Weir breathes deeply, not at all uncomfortable with the cool temperatures. She’s grown used to the cold, almost enjoys it sometimes.

“They’re in the hologram room,” Ronon says as he steps outside on the balcony. He stays right at the doorway and does not venture over to where Weir leans against the railing. This is a sacred place, under Weir’s purview alone.

“She wants to know more,” she murmurs. “I think she’s about to find out some things that she might not like.”

Ronon stares at her. “Do you want me to get them out?”

She doesn’t answer him at first, considering. Finally she shook her head. “She’s curious. It’s not often that you literally get to see what might have been.” She smiles thinly. “No doubt she’s discovering that some things are better left a mystery.”

Ronon doesn’t understand, but he does not ask for clarification. He just watches her for a moment before going back inside.


	2. Part Two

“Ah,” Rodney says happily as he settles himself in front of a laptop, “much better.”

Zelenka and Simpson say nothing, much to his annoyance. Even as his fingers begin to fly over the keys, he comments sarcastically, “You know, if I hadn’t heard you speak to Ronon, I’d assume that you both were mute.”

Simpson rolls her eyes at him. Zelenka, who is sitting across from him, his eyes on his own laptop, actually deigns to reply. “You fill up the silence so well, we didn’t think you noticed that we weren’t saying anything.” He smirks.

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, ha-ha.” The three begin their work in earnest and the silence falls again, this time punctuated only by the occasional scrape of a stool and by the near-constant sound of fingers tapping on computer keys.

Eventually, however, Zelenka and Simpson are summoned to look at the screen of the laptop they had loaned to Rodney. “There,” he says, pointing at the screen. “That’s what we need.”

Simpson stares at it and then at him skeptically. “A depleted ZPM and a naquadah generator? How is that supposed to work? Naquadah power isn’t compatible for a ZPM. If it was, we’d use our own generators to recharge our ZPMs.”

“True,” Rodney concedes, “but in this case, it isn’t necessary. One thing I noticed about the portal is that it seemed to draw power from different energy sources. From the readings I was able to get, it’s almost like a three-prong adapter, and adapts everything to fit its specifications. The sources on this side of the portal were depleted by our arrival, which is why we started dialing addresses so we could find possible power sources to use to recharge it.”

Simpson nods. “I’ll inform Doctor Weir.” She turns around and strides out before either man can say a word. Rodney stares at Zelenka. Zelenka stares at Rodney.

“So…” Rodney says slowly, his eyes falling back to the computer screen, “what’s been happening? How’s life? Good? Bad? Okay?”

“Well enough, giving the circumstances,” Zelenka replies. “Life has not been easy for any of us lately. We make do.”

Rodney nods. “Oh. So, then I guess since my other self isn’t in here attempting to match my great intellect, then that means…”

“The Doctor Rodney McKay of our reality is dead, yes,” Zelenka says shortly, his voice gaining a harsh quality to it. He abruptly turned away. “He died ten months ago, in a battle with the Asurans. Colonel Sheppard died shortly thereafter.”

Rodney doesn’t say anything. Really, what can he say to that? Being faced with your own mortality, no matter how skewed, doesn’t exactly leave you full of speeches. Besides, words are something Elizabeth’s good with, not him.

Well, he thinks, Elizabeth wanted to know more about the city and its circumstances. He thinks this qualifies. “And Teyla?” he asks hesitantly. “Did she die with us… er, them too?”

Zelenka, who has returned to his own laptop, doesn’t look up at him, but his body radiates suppressed tension. “No, she survived that battle. She died a few weeks later, when she was captured by Michael.” He glanced up momentarily. “You know him, yes?”

The scientist cringes. “Far better than we’d like,” he answers stiffly.

Zelenka seems to understand his hesitance. “She was off-world with Major Lorne’s team, trading with the Imotemins. She was speaking with the leaders of the village when the building they were in suddenly caught on fire. Major Lorne’s team and the villagers were able to put it out without any major damage, but when they managed to get everyone out of the building, Teyla was missing. We searched everywhere for her, but found nothing.” He stops, seemingly struggling within himself, but eventually continues. “She appeared one week later, when Doctor Weir was at the Imotemins’ village. There… there was not…”

He trails off, but Rodney gets the picture. In his own reality, Michael had attempted to experiment on Teyla before, tried to make her like one of his beastly bug minions. He shudders.

“Doctor Weir put a price on his head,” Zelenka tells him after several moments, and something in the man’s voice makes Rodney look up. There’s a vicious quality in his eyes that he has never seen in the usually mild-mannered Czech. It’s actually rather frightening. “We have even received a few leads on his whereabouts, though he has eluded us so far,” Zelenka adds. “But we will find him. It is only a matter of time.”

Rodney watches the other man return to his work, as though he had just made a simple, inane statement about the weather. Suddenly, he likes this reality even less than he did before. It’s no longer because so many friends are dead, but because the living are just as unsettling. He saw it first with the other Elizabeth, and even the other Ronon a little bit. Now Zelenka.

Rodney forces himself to concentrate on his laptop. He wants to go home. Sooner, rather than later.

* * *

Night has fallen and Weir prepares to settle in. Tomorrow, she plans to respond to Earth, and she needs to be rested and ready to deal with them. She has no doubt that Generals Landry, Hammond, and O’Neill will issue their normal batch of threats, and she’ll merely state what they already know: If they attempt to take Atlantis, the expedition members will fight back with everything at their disposal. Weir sighs. She’s rather tired of it all. It’s fast becoming a waste of everyone’s time.

She strips down out of her clothes and grabs the t-shirt and nightshirt she left at the foot of her bed. Weir snorts as she slips the shorts over her hips. So much has been happening that it’s hard for her to recall when she last slept in her own bed.

Her bed looks more inviting than it normally does. Usually, her bed is often the last thing she wants to see. Sleeping in it means dreaming, and then she wakes up feeling as though she hadn’t slept at all. Tonight, however, Weir’s so exhausted that she’s fairly certain she’ll sleep without dreaming.

Just as Weir sits down, however, her door chimes. _Typical_ , she thinks tiredly. Grudgingly, she stands back up and grabs her robe. Throwing it on, she calls, “Come in.”

The doors slide open and Weir is faced with her other self. She raises an eyebrow. “It’s late. Can’t it wait until morning?”

Elizabeth, however, is in no mood to wait, it seems. She stares at her intently. “Why?” she asks simply, crossing her arms.

Weir cocked her head quizzically. “Why what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than just a single word.”

“Why did you break off from Earth?” she fires back.

Weir doesn’t answer her immediately. She isn’t all that surprised with the question, really. She’d known the moment Ronon had told her that her other self and _Colonel Sheppard_ were digging in the hologram room that it was only a matter of time before she would be facing this question. The facts were there, but not the reasoning behind them.

Sighing again, Weir turns away from her other self. She stares out at the city view that her quarters afford her. After several moments of tense silence, she gestures to the chair at her desk. “You’d better sit down. This could take a while.”

She doesn’t turn to look, but Weir hears Elizabeth take the seat. Slowly, she moves back to her bed and sits down at the end. Her shoulders hunch slightly as she presses her palms down on the mattress.

“We didn’t have a choice,” she says at last. “It was either cut ourselves off or lose everything we fought and bled for, what some of us had already died for.”

“What do you mean?”

“The _Daedalus_ discovered that the Asurans were building warships,” she explains. “The analysts on Earth assumed that such a large fleet couldn’t just be for dealing with Atlantis, so they had to have something bigger in mind. Naturally, they assumed that the Asurans were meant to come and attack Earth.”

Elizabeth nods. “That happened in our reality. They sent the _Apollo_ under Colonel Ellis to launch a preemptive strike against them.” She wrinkles her nose. “It didn’t do much more than infuriate the Asurans and result in them retaliating against Atlantis. We had to submerge the city, and then fly it to another planet.” A shadow crosses Elizabeth’s face, and Weir figures that there’s probably more to the story than what her counterpart is saying, but she lets it pass for the moment.

“Roughly the same thing happened here, and eventually the conflict erupted into a full-scale war. We were able to fight them off, and force them to retreat, but that was only for a few days,” Weir continues. “They were relentless. We needed options, including reinforcements, but the IOA, in its infinite wisdom, said we had to make do with what we had, namely the _Apollo_ and the city’s defenses. Everything else, they claimed, was needed to beat back the Ori, despite the fact that Adria was dead.” Weir knows her tone and words are bitter and harsh, but she can’t bring herself to care. She despises the IOA, and makes no secret of it.

“It was only a matter of time before we began to suffer casualties,” she says. “The Asurans were content to scale back their ambitions to just destroying Atlantis and those of us that inhabited it. Earth could wait.” She clenches her fists. “After one particularly… brutal battle, we were able to destroy them, but not without cost.” Weir catches Elizabeth’s eyes. “That was the day we lost our Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard.”

There is silence for several minutes and Weir watches her other self. She hides her emotions well, but not well enough. She can see the pain and sympathy in her eyes. Weir glances away. She has no need for pity.

Weir opens her mouth to continue, only to be stopped by the chirp of her earpiece, which sits on the small, functional nightstand to the right of her bed. Frowning at the interruption, Weir leans back on the bed and grabs it. Putting it in, she taps it, saying, “This is Weir. What is it?”

 _“Doctor Weir,”_ comes the voice of Peter Grodin, _“Our sensors have picked up a ship moving in-system. They’re under a cloak, but we’re picking up zero-point energy.”_

Weir’s lip curls up in a snarl. “Earth,” she growls. “Raise the shield,” she orders Grodin, “put the city on alert. Tell Ronon to meet me in the control room. Weir out.”

She stands up, noticing that Elizabeth had done the same. “What’s going on?” Elizabeth demands.

“We’re about to fall under attack,” she replies, grabbing her recently-discarded clothes. Throwing them on over her pajamas, she says, “Sorry to cut this short, but duty calls.”

* * *

Ronon is on his way out the door when the alarms sound. Grodin’s warning had sent him hurrying out of his quarters toward the Control room, barking orders at everyone he came across. He doesn’t see too many people, however, since by now everyone knows what to do. The scientists race to the vital areas of the city, ready to make quick repairs. Many of the Marines follow, guarding those areas in case the enemy makes it past the shield.

The Control room is a scene of controlled chaos. Weir is already there, glaring at the view screen as Grodin and the other techs struggle to show her what they are facing.

Ronon also notes that the other team is also arriving. The other Elizabeth is standing at the edge of the control room, just in front of the bridge that leads to Weir’s office. Sheppard stands with her, as does his other self. All three are watching them with sharp, keen eyes.

He ignores them and moves to stand with Weir. “What is it?” he demands. “Wraith?”

“No,” she replies. “The sensors are detecting high levels of zero-point energy.”

“A ZPM,” Ronon deduces. “The _Odyssey_ then?”

She nods. “Or one of the Earth ships, at any rate.” She looks over at Grodin. “Anything?”

The dark-haired man starts to shake his head, but then he stops. “Wait. We’re picking up a signal.” He looks at them. “They want to talk.”

Weir snorts derisively. “I’m sure they do,” she mutters under her breath. After a moment, she nods. “Open the channel.”

Grodin adjusts a few of the controls and then a familiar face appears on the screen. Ronon has never met the man face to face, but this isn’t the first time his face has appeared in Atlantis. Weir, though, knows him all too well.

“General O’Neill,” she says coolly.

The older man’s face reveals nothing, and his voice is just as even. “Doctor Weir.”

“What can we do for you?”

“Don’t bother with the small talk, Elizabeth,” O’Neill snaps. “You know why I’m here.”

Weir crosses her arms. “Yes, Jack, I suppose I do. I just never thought I’d see the day you’d play the IOA’s lapdog.”

“They’ve got nothing to do with this--”

“They have everything to do with this, and you know it. How many times did a pack of bean-counting bureaucrats try to take the S.G.C. away from you and your team?” Weir demands. “We fought and bled for this place, and we lost far too many in order to save it after the IOA decided to take on a race we had little defense against.” She glares at him. “Then after all that, they declare us obsolete?”

“Go back, General,” she hisses. “There’s nothing here for Earth anymore.”

* * *

Elizabeth watches the exchange between her other self and Jack O’Neill. She’s always been fond of the general in her reality, just as he is of her. After watching Weir, Elizabeth observes the rigid stance as Weir faces the screen and finds it almost sickening in how things stand between these two.

She watches as Weir makes a sharp, cutting motion in Grodin’s direction and the connection is promptly severed. “What are they doing?” Weir demands.

“They’re powering weapons,” Grodin replies. “Firing… drones?!”

“What? Return fire, intercept them!”

Whoever is in the control chair must have a good aim, Elizabeth notes, because it feels like only a few get through to impact the shield.

“How the hell did they equip a ship with drones?” Elizabeth jumps slightly, not having noticed Rodney’s arrival.

“Just what the hell is going on would be my first question, McKay,” John mutters from his spot to her immediate left.

“They’ve broken off from Earth,” Elizabeth reminds him. “I suspect Earth didn’t take it well, and they’re attempting to retake the city.”

“Shouldn’t we help?” Ronon asks.

“Which side?” John cuts in wryly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth shakes her head. “We don’t know enough of the situation.” She turns to Rodney. “Have you found a way to get us back yet?”

Rodney’s eyes are still on the commotion taking place all over the control room as everyone struggles to repel the _Odyssey_ , but he nods. “Yes, we think we’ve got something that might work. If we take the naquadah generator—”

“Good,” she interrupts, her eyes still on her counterpart, “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” She is about to continue, when John interrupts.

“Where’s Teyla?”

* * *

The corridors out by the east pier are mostly dark, lit only by flickering lights. Even though her own Atlantis is in much the same state in certain areas, Teyla finds it unsettling. There is a great deal in this place that unnerves her. The people that she has encountered since her release have often looked at her as though she was an apparition, and her guard, Sergeant Arnold, is no exception. She assumes that her other self is dead, just as they had assumed the other Colonel Sheppard and Rodney McKay were also dead. Given the looks she receives and the fact that she has not seen this universe’s Teyla at all since they were brought here, the conclusion is inescapable.

Still, the fact that she unnerves Sergeant Arnold has not stopped him from heeding her advice. This is still Atlantis, and a woman very much like her friend is in command. The radio signals are being jammed. Something is wrong, and she is determined that even this terrible reflection of her home must be given the chance to defend itself.

Teyla rounds a corner and sees lights sweeping around up ahead. She shrinks back the way she had come, dragging Arnold with her, and watching the distant figures. The alarm had sounded some time earlier, Teyla thinks. Surely there would not be anyone else out this far into the city besides the two of them.

Though she has no evidence to back up her supposition, she believes that something is terribly wrong here. There are intruders in Atlantis. When she turns to speak of this observation to her companion, Teyla sees that Arnold has also come to that conclusion already. He motions for them to fall back the way they came.

Once they deem themselves far enough away, Teyla asks, “No one else is supposed to be out here, correct?”

The sergeant shakes his head as he checks his stunner. “Not during an emergency.”

She had expected as much. “May I borrow a weapon then, please? We need to contact the control room and inform them that there are intruders in the city, and I do not wish to do so while unarmed.”

Arnold stares at her for a moment. Teyla knows that for him to give her a weapon violates many of the military procedures he has been trained to follow, but one of the human proverbs that Colonel Sheppard has used in the past does say something about desperate measures, if she recalls correctly. After a moment, he takes out his pistol and hands her his Wraith stunner.

“Come on,” he says after a moment, “we’ll try the other way. There might be something there we can use to warn everyone.”

* * *

Weir orders a scan of the city to look for Teyla, but keeps most of her attention on the _Odyssey_ and its movements. She knows that Jack O’Neill isn’t going to give up on retaking Atlantis just because she said a few hurtful words. She wouldn’t have either, if their positions had been reversed. Still, Earth lost its right to the city of the Ancients when they decided their own people were expendable in a war that should never have been fought.

“Peter?” she demands.

“They’re just sitting there, ma’am. They aren’t even preparing to fire another shot.”

She glares at the screen, waiting for O’Neill to make his next move and wondering if she’s always been this impatient.

A beep on the controls catches their attention and she immediately turns. Grodin puts his hand up to the transmitter in his right ear and his eyes widen. “It’s Sergeant Arnold and… Teyla,” he says after a moment. “They’ve spotted intruders moving along the edges of the city.”

Weir’s eyes widen. Without hesitation, she taps her ear radio and opens up the correct frequency. “Sergeant,” she barks, “report!”

 _“Yes ma’am. We have at least six hostiles lurking out here on the east pier. Teyla and I are keeping a safe distance, but we’ve been observing them. They’re moving toward one of the transporters.”_

Ronon, who apparently has also been listening, demands, “How did they get through the shield?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Weir snaps. “I want these people contained now.” She taps her radio again. “Sergeant, can you and Teyla get around them and beat them to the transporter?”

There is a pause, but then he answers, _“I think so, ma’am.”_

“Good. Contact us when you get there. Weir out.” She whirls at Peter and orders, “Check the sensors and find a way to detect these people. See if there are any other teams too.”

He nods and bends his head over his console, ignoring everything else around him. The console soon begins beeping in response to the commands Peter puts into it.

Weir turns to Ronon. “Get a team of Marines ready. Use stunners only,” she says. “I want these people alive if at all possible.”

* * *

John watches everyone spring into action. Despite the many differences he has seen here, what he sees now is familiar. These people move and work together like a well-oiled bicycle. They know and trust one another.

What concerns him, though, is Teyla. He doesn’t have any idea what could have possessed her to go out that far from the central area of Atlantis, though he supposes he should be grateful that she did. They never would have known of the intruders otherwise.

John turns to Elizabeth. “We should help,” he says.

“No,” she replies without taking her eyes off of her doppelganger. “We don’t know enough about the situation--”

He cuts her off. “Teyla’s out there now with a bunch of unknowns that I doubt are friendly to anyone in this city. They don’t know that she doesn’t belong here. That’s all I need to know.”

John watches her hesitate for a moment, but she nods. “Fine, but only to retrieve Teyla,” she says, eyeing him sharply. “Do _not_ engage unless you have no other choice.” She pauses before adding, “And that’s if they will even let you go.” Elizabeth jerks her head towards her counterpart and the others.

John considers them for a moment, trying to decide the best approach. Finally, he shrugs. _Best to be direct,_ he thinks. Besides, his presence seems to throw Weir off a little. Maybe he can use that to get her to agree.

“Rodney, stay here with Elizabeth,” he commands. “Ronon, with me.” John doesn’t wait for Ronon to reply, just walks forward to stand in front of Weir.

“A word, Doctor?”

Weir turns her fierce gaze on him for a moment and John forces himself to hold it. He can barely see the tiny flinch in her eyes, but he starts talking the moment he does. “Let me and Ronon go with your team to get Teyla back.” She opens her mouth up, probably to refuse him point blank, but John cuts her off. “You know we won’t get in their way. Teyla’s our objective.”

For several moments, she says nothing, just keeps staring at him. Her gaze is a little unnerving, since it’s so different than the stare he’s so accustomed to. After considering him, she nods slightly.

“Don’t do anything stupid out there, Colonel,” she says quietly. Then, in a louder voice, she tells the two guards that are still shadowing him and Ronon, “Give them stunners and a vest for Colonel Sheppard. Help them bring Teyla Emmagan back up here. Do not engage the enemy unless you have no other alternative.”

The two Marines chorus their recognition of her orders. John only has a moment to nod his thanks to her before hurrying out of the control room, leaving Rodney and Elizabeth behind.

It doesn’t take them long to stop at the armory and get what they needed, nor does it take too long for them to catch up with the other Ronon and his Marines. He doesn’t look surprised to see them, leading John to assume that Weir had informed him of their arrival.

“Don’t get in our way,” is his only comment just before he and three of the Marines step into the transporter.

As the other heavily-armed Marines follow, John murmurs, “No problem.” He’s not eager to incur the wrath of Ronon Dex, no matter what reality he’s from.

* * *

Teyla is very relieved when the promised team comes through. The other Ronon is the first out of the transporter and he stares at her, likely surprised that she is alone and carrying a stunner.

“Sergeant Arnold is down the corridor,” she explains, “watching for the intruders.”

He nods shortly and then starts directing his men down the way she indicates. A few moments later, the transporter activates again and John and steps through, accompanied by her Ronon and their two Marine guards.

“Teyla,” John starts, “let’s go. We’re only here to get you out--”

John is cut off by the sounds of shouting, stunner blasts, and gunfire. Several shots plow into the walls near their position. All five of them whirl in the direction of the commotion and without even hesitating, take off running toward it.

The scene they come upon is the usual chaos of battle in close quarters. Teyla can see the other Ronon firing further down the corridor, along with Sergeant Arnold and four of the Marines that came with him. The remaining two lie on the ground. Teyla thinks she sees their chests rising, but she cannot be certain. She also sees three other bodies on the deck, presumably the intruders.

An errant shot comes near her head and Teyla ducks low, returning fire automatically. She throws herself down behind the cover that Sergeant Arnold is using and continues to fire her stunner at the invaders. She nearly scowls when she misses hitting one by mere inches.

Teyla notes that John and Ronon have also done as she has, taking cover and opening fire with their own stunners. Ronon’s shots are performed with their usual accuracy, and he hits one of the remaining three intruders, a woman with long, dark hair. There is no time for Teyla to wonder at the faint hint of recognition as she continues firing.

Given how outmatched the intruders are, it is only a matter of time before the last two are subdued. When the smoke from the P-90s begins to clear, the other Ronon and all of the Marines carefully move forward, keeping their weapons at the ready. Once the intruders are restrained, Ronon turns to the rest of them.

“Let’s go. Weir’s not going to be happy.”

* * *

He had been right. Weir isn’t happy, and neither is her counterpart.

Ronon misses most of the dressing down the other Sheppard and his other self receive, but they still are not finished by the time he returns to the control room after securing the prisoners in the brig.

“… told you not to get involved, John,” Elizabeth is saying as he walks in, her expression hard.

“They started shooting at us,” he maintains, his arms folded. “What were we supposed to do?”

Weir glares at him. “Retreat?” she asks scathingly. When John only shrugs, she rolls eyes and turns to Ronon. “What did you find?”

Wordlessly, he holds out a group of dog tags to her. She takes them and looks through them. “Airman James Hinton, Sergeant Thomas Porter, Corporal Nick Latimer,” she murmurs. When she gets to the fourth one, however, she pauses for several moments. Eventually, she continues, “Colonel Charles Reynolds, Vala Mal Doran, Colonel Samantha Carter.”

Silence permeates the control room. Ronon watches as Weir grips the dog tags in her hand, and then glances at the others present. Elizabeth and John are also watching Weir carefully, like one would watch a wounded, hostile animal. Ronon’s counterpart and Teyla’s expressions are inscrutable as they observe the events. Rodney doesn’t bother hiding his own apprehension as he stares at Weir.

Weir stays silent for several more seconds, before turning to Peter, who still has not left his station. “Were you able to detect any more of these incursions?”

He shakes his head. “I was able to configure the sensors and picked up the intruders. They have some kind of transmitters beneath their skins—”

“Subcutaneous transmitters,” John supplies. Ronon notes that both Elizabeth and Weir give him a dark look, obviously not desiring his participation in the conversation.

Peter either doesn’t notice or ignores it. He simply nods. “Yes. The shield mutes the signal for the most part, and it also prevents outside interference.”

“So the _Odyssey_ can’t beam them out?” Weir asks.

“No,” Peter replies. “At most, they can monitor their position.”

“So O’Neill knows they’ve been caught,” Ronon puts in.

Peter opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by an alarm going off on his console. He looks down at it briefly, but then looks up at Weir. “I guess that answers that. We’re being hailed by the _Odyssey_.”

* * *

Weir struggles to keep calm. All of their cards had been played at this point, and now it’s the endgame. She doesn’t doubt that Jack O’Neill is aware of this, especially when she now has both his rumored lover and the mother of the Orici in her brig.

When the grizzled man appears on the screen, she stares at him. “Your incursion failed, Jack,” she say. “Colonel Carter and her team are now in custody.”

To his credit, O’Neill doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “Really? No idea what you’re talking about.”

Weir sighs. “Enough of this, General. This isn’t the first time Earth has attempted to retake Atlantis by subterfuge. I’m sure you recall what happened to the team we captured the last time?” She doesn’t doubt that he does. He was at the SGC when she had every member of that team thrown through the Stargate, only giving the home base a few seconds warning to open the iris. That team could have died if Walter Harriman had been off his game that day.

She holds his gaze for several seconds, but notices that he doesn’t seem broken up about his people’s capture. Weir’s eyes narrow, considering him. Jack O’Neill is the wiliest military man she’s ever known. It’s quite possible that he’s up to something else.

Well, if it includes that team, then she will not give them time to execute their plan. She turns to Peter. “Cut the channel.” The moment O’Neill’s face disappears, she tells Ronon to bring the group to the Gate room. Just before he leaves, she adds, “Blindfold them, though. The less of Atlantis they see with their own eyes, the better.”

The moment the Satedan left, her counterpart stepped forward. “What are you doing?” she asks.

Weir smirks at her. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved?” she replies mockingly.

“Too late. We are involved whether we like it or not. What are you going to do?”

She shrugs. “Exactly what I did last time. Doctor Lam has no doubt already taken the blood samples from them that she requires. I’m not about to waste further resources on these people.”

“And just what does that mean?”

“They’re a liability, Doctor. I cannot afford to have anyone on this base that I cannot trust. I’m certainly not about to trust Samantha Carter, of all people. Best get them gone now before they cause even more trouble than they already have.”


	3. Part Three

Elizabeth doesn’t know what to make of this situation. She’s watched Weir exchange threats with General O’Neill, and now she seems to have plans for the captured incursion team. Given the sinister undertones of the other woman’s expression, Elizabeth can’t help but fear the worst.

Within twenty minutes, the group of six are brought into the Gate room, bound and blindfolded, just as Weir gives Peter Grodin the order to dial Earth. Elizabeth watches Weir descend the steps to the Gate room, coming to a halt just before the blinded prisoners, specifically Sam Carter and Vala Mal Doran.

“This all seems rather wasteful, Colonel Carter,” Weir comments, her voice even. “I wonder what your purpose was to come down here, knowing you’d be spotted and caught quickly.”

Carter shrugs. “I follow the orders I’m given,” she replies, then cocks her head and adds, “That seems to be something you and your people have forgotten how to do.”

“We haven’t forgotten. We’ve just grown tired of being given suicide orders. Earth has cost us enough,” Weir snaps. “Why are you here?”

It isn’t Carter who answers, but Vala Mal Doran. “Oh, you know, we just wanted to check out the local facilities, see if there was any good property up for sale,” she says airily. Elizabeth nearly smiles. This Vala sounds very much like the one from her own reality. “You seem to have let the place go, though, since your little rebellion. The lack of security is abysmal.”

Weir’s eyes narrow. “Fine, we’ll find out ourselves.” She nods to the guards and jogs back up the steps. “Open a channel,” Weir orders Peter.

“Channel open.”

Elizabeth watches her counterpart straighten. “This is Doctor Elizabeth Weir of Atlantis. We wish to inform you that your latest attempt to invade this city has failed. We are now in possession of the members of your strike team.”

For several moments, there is nothing. Then comes a burst of static, and the familiar voice of Hank Landry sounds through the control room.

 _“This is General Landry of the Stargate Project. Doctor Weir, I am afraid I do not know at all what you are--”_

Elizabeth notices that Weir rolls her eyes just before she answers. “Please, General, we have already heard that line from General O’Neill. It seems that you didn’t comprehend my last warning about this kind of thing.”

 _“And just what do you intend to do about it?”_

“Normally, quite a bit more than what I am about to do. As things stand, I am occupied. You have fifteen seconds to open your iris. Otherwise, your little band will have a close, personal, and _fatal_ meeting with it.” She pauses, and Elizabeth watches her, barely aware that John, Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney are all staring as well. “Do not attempt this again, General. Inform the I.O.A. that they have only themselves to blame for their loss of control out here. If this happens again, I will not be so forgiving in allowing all of your people to return unharmed. Call it three strikes. End transmission.”

Weir strides over to the small balcony overlooking the Gate room. A few jerking movements later, and Ronon and the Marines are shoving the captured team through the event horizon.

Elizabeth cannot comprehend anything right now. This woman, who wears her face and uses her voice, is a stranger, and a frightening one at that. Genetically, they are the same person, but emotionally, mentally? There is no similarity.

 _Or is there?_ More than once she has been forced to toe and even to cross the imaginary line that all leaders use to gauge their own behavior. The first—and only—Wraith given to the Hoffans, Michael, and even the horrific incident with John, Kolya, and the starving Wraith had all pushed her further and further. They had led her into behavior that she would have found reprehensible, before her involvement in the Stargate Program.

Just how different is she from this woman? Is this her fate if things should go badly for her reality?

* * *

John watches from the balcony overlooking the Gate room as the captured team is pushed through the event horizon, and then turns to Elizabeth, expecting her to continue the argument with her counterpart. However, she seems frozen in place, her face devoid of color as she stares at Weir.

He can guess at least some of her thoughts, and touches her arm, hoping to distract her. Elizabeth jumps at the unexpected contact, but offers him a tiny smile of thanks.

“You’re not her,” he reminds her.

She nods. “It’s just strange, knowing this _could_ have been me, if things had gone just a little bit differently.”

“Maybe, but it didn’t happen to you. You can’t hold yourself responsible,” John tells her. She opens her mouth to argue, but he holds up his hand. “Just concentrate on getting home, Elizabeth. That’s something that’s within your power to worry about.”

Elizabeth holds his gaze for several moments, and then turns back toward the gathering by the consoles. John does the same.

Weir stands next to the view screen, her arms crossed. When the wormhole closes, she turns to Grodin. “Open a channel,” she orders again.

At the man’s nod, she speaks, “ _Odyssey_ , this is Weir. Your incursion team has been returned to Earth. I suggest you join them.”

There is no response, and John waits in a tense silence with everyone else. Suddenly, a series of beeps emanates from Grodin’s console. “The ship is moving out of the system.” He looked up and although his expression is lighter than John has seen it, Grodin doesn’t smile. “They’re leaving.”

“Maybe,” Weir concedes, “but I want that ship monitored until it leaves sensor range.” Her expression is still closed when she turns to her Ronon. “This all seems too easy,” she states. “I want search parties sent out through the different quadrants of the city, especially the area where Carter and her team were located. Look for signs of sabotage of any kind. You may have to take a few scientists with you to check the systems.”

* * *

Rodney listens to Weir give her orders and longs to throw a few words of advice at her. Sheppard, though, moves over to stand next to him.

“What do you think they might have done out there?” he asks, leaning against the railing on the catwalk that led to Weir’s office.

“Any number of things,” Rodney replies, shrugging. “That area has the back-up control center for the city’s power distribution. Sabotage that and if something should happen to the control room, then they’d be in huge amounts of trouble.”

Sheppard starts to respond, but is interrupted when Weir joins them. “Thank you, Rodney, we will keep that in mind,” she says. Elizabeth’s doppelganger stares at him, and then at the other members of his team, who have joined him and Sheppard. “I know you want to go back to where you came from as soon as possible, but I can’t spare anyone to escort you, a naquadah generator, and an empty Z.P.M. at the moment.”

Rodney opens his mouth to declare that they don’t _need_ an escort and she can send a team later to pick up the generator later, but Elizabeth cuts him off. “We understand,” she says. “The safety of your city must come first.”

Weir stares at Elizabeth for a long moment before nodding and walking away. Elizabeth has clearly had enough of being in the control room because she moves toward the exit, Rodney and the others hasten to catch up.

Once out in the hallway, Rodney demands, “Elizabeth, why didn’t you just ask her to let us go on our own? We could have—”

“Because,” she interrupts, “this isn’t over. She was right. This was all too easy. There is no way Jack O’Neill, in any reality, gives up that quickly.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. “There’s something else going on, and we’re staying to find out.”

“I thought we weren’t getting involved,” Ronon says, a slight smirk on his face.

Both Teyla and Elizabeth snort. “I think it’s too late for that,” Elizabeth states.

Teyla says, at the same time, “We already are involved.”

Rodney sighs as everyone separates, by unspoken mutual agreement, to find a place to get some sleep. This just isn’t his day, or his week. However long they’ve been in this insane reality.

* * *

Ronon chooses to concentrate the teams in the area where Carter and her team were located, leaving just a few to check the other quadrants. No one else has been detected, so it’s safer to look more closely at the place where they know there was a breach. He won’t be getting any sleep anytime soon.

So far, the only thing they have found is some kind of raft, tied up along a sheltered area of the pier. He’s not sure how they got it through the shield, but that can wait until later. They know where to begin tracing the path Carter’s team made.

Three hours later, around four-fifty-five in the morning, Ronon’s radio goes off.

 _“Sanderson to Ronon.”_

The Satedan taps it. “Yeah, Lieutenant?”

 _“We’re in the back-up power distribution center and the intruders have been here. Some of the controls have been activated, and there’s something else…”_

“What?” Ronon demands.

 _“We’re not sure. Simpson’s not entirely sure either. She says she hasn’t seen it anything like it before._

“I’ll get Zelenka down there,” he tells the lieutenant. Tapping his radio again, he changes to a different channel. “Zelenka, did you hear?”

 _“Yes,”_ the scientist says, _“I am on my way there now. Elizabeth says to keep her informed.”_

“Good. I’ll meet you there.” Ronon turns to his team and finds them ready to move without him having to give them an order. They quickly move out and start down the winding maze of hallways.

* * *

Weir is angry. In the last week, she has come face to face with people she knows to be dead, and another version of herself who keeps judging her. As if that was not enough, Jack O’Neill had to show up in _her_ galaxy to try—yet again—to take her city away by sending his pet colonel to sabotage Atlantis’ vital systems.

Maybe she should have kept the blonde bitch and let Ronon shake the dust off of his interrogation skills. Perhaps she has been too lenient on Earth, seeking only a distance from them that so far they have been unwilling to give. Maybe she needs to be more aggressive.

“Radek,” she speaks into the open channel, “any ideas?”

 _“Not yet,”_ the Czech scientist replies. _“It is of Earth design, but unfamiliar. We’re still running scans on it.”_

“What’s taking so long on the scans?” Grodin jumps in, his handsome face thoughtful. “It shouldn’t take more than a few seconds to get a reading on what energy it’s emitting, if any at all.”

 _“There seems to be some kind of dampening field around the object. We are attempting to compensate for that now.”_

For several tense minutes, everyone in the control room stands in silence, waiting for news. It is times like these that the lack of John and Rodney’s presence is keenly felt. Weir can almost predict the words they would use to snip at each other while Rodney worked with the other scientists to solve this latest puzzle. Finally, Radek’s voice comes over the communications channel.

 _“Elizabeth,”_ he says, his voice flat, _“we need to evacuate this area. Now.”_

“What is it?” Weir demands, stepping up to rest her hands on Grodin’s console.

 _“I am still not entirely sure, but once we got past the dampening field, we were able to measure the amount of energy it holds. There is enough energy to destroy a significant portion of the city. The residual radiation in the wake of the explosion will take care of any survivors in the remaining areas.”_

“My God,” she breathes. “All right, all nonessential personnel are to vacate the room and return to the central areas of the city,” she orders.

 _“Elizabeth, this thing is a ticking bomb,”_ Radek adds. _“I will stay and help, but I have no experience—”_

 _“Which is why you go too,”_ Ronon’s voice cuts in. Weir hears the scientist start to protest, but she cuts him off.

“Ronon’s right, Radek. We cannot afford to lose you too. Return to the control room now.”

Radek sighs. _“Very well. But who will defuse it?”_

 _“I will,”_ Ronon states.

Weir blinks, surprised. “Ronon—”

 _“I wasn’t trained to just shoot at the Wraith on Sateda,”_ he interrupts, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“He’s right.”

Weir starts slightly and turns around to find the other Ronon standing in the doorway. He seems to have been there for sometime and already knows the situation.

“I’ll give him a hand,” he says before disappearing, leaving Weir shocked.

* * *

Ronon finds this whole alternate reality idea more than a bit crazy, but he takes it in stride as best he can. It isn’t the first crazy thing he’s come across since Sateda’s destruction. He’s dealt with machines so small that they can’t be seen with the naked eye, bombs that can single-handedly take out a Wraith hive ship, and even seen a Wraith altered to look a human. Another universe with an Atlantis, another him, and duplicates of everyone that he knows isn’t that much of a stretch.

He knows that his Weir wanted initially to stay out of these people’s business, but even she conceded that it’s too late for that. They are stuck here until these people resolve their problems, and as long as there’s a bomb in Atlantis, they’re all at risk no matter what reality they’re from. So he goes down to help.

On Sateda, Kel did not just train him to fight and shoot a weapon straight. Kel taught him about the different facets of war, and that included handling explosives. It isn’t something he has had to do often, since his friends have their own experts, though he has made a point to learn about their kinds of explosives in case of an emergency. Still, Cadman’s proved herself capable, despite her chipper, friendly personality. Since she doesn’t seem to be here and Weir doesn’t seem intent on calling anyone else, he decides to lend a hand.

After a quick trip in the transporter, he gets there to find his other self, lying on his side with the upper half of his body hidden beneath one of the consoles.

“Under here,” he says unnecessarily.

Ronon moves over and squats down, looking under the console. “Found the access points?” he asks. The device is black and box-shaped, but with no distinguishing markings. It doesn’t look that big, surprisingly enough. It’s attached to the bottom of the console near the back, which makes it more difficult to get to. He won’t be able to get under there to see it for himself, not with his other self in the way.

“Yeah,” the other Satedan replies. “They’re on the back. Can you hold the flashlight?”

Ronon lay down. “Sure,” he says, taking the light and holding it up. He watches as his other self makes quick work of the screws and pulls off the black casing to reveal the object’s wiring. Ronon inhales sharply at what he sees. It isn’t the chaotic mess of wiring. That would not bother him. It’s the little digital clock next to the wires, displaying a time in a dull, red light.

00:06:43. 00:06:42. 00:06:41.

His other self mutters a familiar Satedan curse and he sits up, pulling himself out from under the console. Ronon hears him tap his radio.

“Doc, we have a problem,” he says.

Ronon hears a sigh come through the channel. _“Another one?”_

“This thing is a bomb. It’s set to go off in six minutes.”

* * *

Teyla wonders briefly why they even bothered going to bed. She hadn’t been asleep more than a few hours before she heard the voice of the other Elizabeth on the city-wide, ordering everyone to the central areas of the city.

Since she hadn’t even bothered fully undressing, Teyla puts on her boots, grabs her jacket off a chair as she rushes out into the hallway. Elizabeth is waiting for her, and the door across from her own room is already open. Teyla can see John dragging a complaining Rodney out of bed.

“--don’t _want_ to get up,” the scientist whines. “Do you realize that I need some kind of sleep if I’m supposed to pull off a miracle and get us back home? I--”

“Shut up and move, McKay!” John shouts, in no mood for Rodney’s lack of manners. He is lacking in sleep himself, after all. Teyla, however, notices that one of their group is unaccounted for.

“Where is Ronon?” she asks.

Elizabeth shakes her head. “He wasn’t in his room,” she answers, looking worried. “We’re hoping he’s already up in the control room.”

Eventually, John manages to haul Rodney out of his room and the four of them hurry through the halls and make their way up to the control room. Just as they enter, they hear Weir speaking.

“--the hell do you mean, a bomb?”

 _“It’s a bomb,”_ Ronon answers. Teyla assumes it is the Ronon belonging to this reality. _“It’s also a complete mess. There’s no way to defuse it in less than six minutes. ”_

“There’s no time to rig up a puddle jumper for autopilot to send it to explode in orbit either,” Weir snaps, her face pale and her eyes glittering. Teyla finds her expression disturbing. She is angry. Teyla has seen her universe’s Elizabeth Weir angry before, but there is something different this time, something far more dangerous about this Doctor Weir.

It takes no great amount of intelligence to know that the team she and Sergeant Arnold discovered is the one behind this sabotage. However, even knowing that this is not her reality, Teyla still finds it difficult to believe that any Samantha Carter would try to destroy the city of the Ancestors. She must either be very different from the woman Teyla knows, or desperate.

Chaos reigns for a brief moment in the control room, some suggesting an emergency evacuation, but then John cuts through the din. “No,” he shouts, “dial the Gate!”

Teyla is not the only one to turn to stare at him in surprise. “Where?” Grodin finally asks.

“Somewhere there’s no local population to harm. A space Gate. They can transport it up here and throw it through.”

Weir does not hesitate. “Did you get that?” she asks, touching her earpiece.

 _“Yeah,”_ Ronon replies. _“We’re getting it off the console now.”_

“Good,” she says, and then taps the radio again and her voice is heard throughout the city. “This is Weir. Clear a path from Transporter Three to the Gate room.”

* * *

Though he will never say so out loud, Ronon is glad his double is here. Having someone who received the same training as him makes moving this bomb much easier. Things couldn’t have been much better, not even if Laura Cadman were still here.

Once they detach it from the underside of the console, Ronon catches a glimpse of the timer. 00:03:53. 00:03:52. He glances at his counterpart and the two of them carry the explosive between them through the hallways. It takes some doing getting into the transporter without dropping it because it is heavier than it looks. The two of them manage and suddenly, they are only a small distance from the Gate room.

Over the open channel in his radio, Ronon can hear Grodin say, _“I’ve found one! G4M-5922 has a space gate and the world was wiped out by the Wraith.”_

 _“That’s fine,”_ he hears Weir answer. _“Dial the Gate.”_

The sound of the Gate being dialed resounds through the corridor and the two men speed up, each having glanced down at the timer yet again. 00:02:00. 00:01:59. When they make it through the doors of the Gate room, they are just in time to see the event horizon burst out from the Gate.

Out of habit, Ronon glances up to the balcony of the control room. Both Weir and her double are standing there, one pale and the other furious. The angry one, whom Ronon assumes is his Weir, points at the gate. “Throw it now!”

Ronon doesn’t need to be told twice, and neither does his double. They race over to the active Stargate and fling the explosive through, though Ronon does see the timer one final time. 00:01:23.

The event horizon vanishes with its usual snap, leaving the Gate room in silence. Ronon relaxes. The city is safe again for the moment, but he is still going to kill the next person from Earth that invades. No matter what Weir says about it.

* * *

Weir sighs as the Gate shuts down. The crisis appears to be over for the moment. She glances at her doppelganger. The woman looks rather pale at the moment, so she asks, “Are you all right?”

Elizabeth nods. “It’s just strange,” she says. “I never thought I would see someone from Earth deliberately sabotage Atlantis. At least, not someone who was an official part of the program.”

Weir stares at her and then says, “Welcome to my world.”

“You told me how it got to be this way, but…” Elizabeth trails off and shakes her head. “It’s hard.”

Weir mulls over her words. “Yes, it is,” she agrees. “I considered many people at the SGC friends before all of this, including Generals O’Neill and Landry. But they made their choice when they forgot what it is like to be on the front lines, the bonds you form.” She inhales, and then exhales violently. “They did _not_ stand up against the IOA when it was right to do so, and so the task fell to me and this expedition. We had far fewer options than they did, and far less patience to deal with those responsible for the deaths of people I… we cared for.”

Elizabeth glances at her sharply and Weir knows that the bitterness in her tone hasn’t gone unnoticed. She does not get a chance to inquire further, though.

A series of beeps erupts from Grodin’s console, and Weir turns toward him, forgetting the thoughtful expression on Elizabeth’s face. “What now?” she demands.

Grodin examines the readings briefly before answering. “It’s the _Odyssey_. They’ve taken up position at the edge of the system and are performing a long-range scan in our direction.”

Weir clenches her jaw, but it is John who states the obvious. “Probably looking to see if the city’s still afloat, or if we’re sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”

She nods and then orders Grodin, “Keep a watch on them. If they come closer, then let me know immediately.”

Weir does not wait for his answer before turning to face the other occupants of the room. “I believe that we can relax for the moment,” she says. “If there had been another bomb planted, then it would have gone off by now. I will send out teams to investigate the city further, but not until morning.” She attempts a faint smile. “I think we’ve all been through enough for today. I suggest you all get a few hours of sleep. I’ll have my scientists assemble what you need and send you on your way tomorrow.”

She watches the others glance at each other and nod. Elizabeth leads them out of the control room, but John hesitates for a moment. He stares at her. “Your people did good,” he tells her, and then follows his people before she can reply.

* * *

John does manage to get some sleep. He isn’t sure about the rest of his team, or any of the people who operate this Atlantis, but he manages to sleep for about four hours, waking up around ten in the morning. When he arrives back in the control room wearing the clothes he arrived in, he finds that Weir is there, though she looks much fresher due to a change of clothes and perhaps some sleep. Rodney is there as well, his arms crossed and leaning against the railing leading to Weir’s office. John joins him.

“Impatient, are we?” John asks.

“Yes,” the scientist replies. “I want to go home where things are at least _our_ kind of crazy. This place is just too weird for me.”

John shrugs. “I suppose it is kind of strange, getting stared at like you’re a ghost.”

Rodney snorts but does nothing else. Elizabeth, Ronon, and Teyla join them a few minutes later. Weir double-checks the Gate address, but other than that, everyone stands in silence.

Eventually, John sees Radek and Simpson entering the control room, each carrying a laptop case. They are followed by a trio of other scientists, carrying a naquadah generator. John notes that no MALP has appeared, but doesn’t say anything. He has to figure their supply is low, if not gone completely.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” John comments, moving forward. “So, is this where we click our heels together and think ‘there’s no place like home?’”

Weir rolls her eyes at the comment, but he doesn’t see any real irritation on her face. Elizabeth just shakes her head. Both Ronon and Teyla glance at him, but say nothing. Rodney, being himself, makes the comment an issue.

“Oh please,” he says, “that movie is so melodramatic.”

“It’s a classic,” John counters.

“Gentlemen,” Elizabeth interrupts before Rodney can respond. “If you don’t mind?” She nods in Radek’s direction.

The Czech coughs. “Yes, thank you,” he says. “We have everything here that you asked for, plus some of our own equipment so that we might study the device for ourselves.”

“Just be careful you don’t get sucked into an alternate reality,” Rodney says. “I think I can show you some of the things we did so you can avoid what happened to us.”

Radek glances at him and John’s pretty sure he sees the man smile. “Thank you, Rodney.” John also thinks that the scientist noticed that Rodney used the terms ‘we’ and ‘us.’ He tries not to laugh.

Weir cuts in at that point and says, “Major Lorne’s team will accompany you to the planet, since Ronon is needed here for the rest of the search.” She pauses for a moment and then adds, “It has been… interesting.”

Elizabeth nods to her, her expression amused. “I won’t argue with you there. Thanks for all your help.”

Ronon, Teyla, and Rodney also offer their thanks before following Elizabeth towards the stairs. Radek and his team follow as well. John stops in front of Weir and stares at her. She’s watched him several times since they got here and he has a feeling that there is more to it than she’s willing to admit. He isn’t about to speculate on it. Instead, he awkwardly places a hand on her shoulder for a moment. He sees _something_ ignite in her eyes, but he forces himself to walk away before he can completely analyze it.

He’s sure he’s better off not knowing. What happens here in this reality doesn’t affect his reality. He just has to keep telling himself that.

* * *

Rodney’s glad when they make it into the cave. The planet the Ancient device is on is going through its wet season or some other nonsense like that. He is completely drenched, which will probably lead to a cold. Rodney hates being sick.

“Okay, it’s over here,” he tells Radek and Simpson, pointing to a particularly dark corner. “There’s a small alcove that you can’t really see until you’re up close.”

“How did you find it?” Simpson asks as she carries the crate with the empty ZPM Radek and two others are right behind her, bringing along the naquadah generator. Lorne’s team and the rest of Rodney’s own team remain in the main chamber of the cave.

Rodney shrugs. “It was raining, and we were running for the cave. Ronon found it when he searched the corner.”

“I see,” Simpson says, and Rodney’s pretty sure she’s trying not to laugh at him. Normally, he’d snap at her, but he’s just too eager to go home.

“Hand me the Zed-PM, would you?” he asks. Once energy device is in his hand, Rodney steps up to the Ancient machine and pushes the ZPM into the receptacle. It slides in, and only the faintest light appears within it. The machine doesn’t change at all.

“All right then,” Rodney says. “Expected that. Here’s where the naquadah generator comes in. Like I told you when you insisted on me explaining things from my jail cell, the Ancients seemed to have designed this thing to take energy from various different sources. Zero-point energy, geothermal energy, whatever. It just needs energy, and I think that the naquadah generator will give it enough of a jump start to make the device start gathering energy from different sources.”

“Fascinating,” Radek breathes, staring at the Ancient machine. “Why do you need the ZPM, then? It is empty.”

Rodney nods, even though they can’t see him do so. “I know it is. I don’t entirely understand this thing yet, as I haven’t had a lot of time to study it without jumping from universe to universe and being in constant peril. I think this thing somehow _converts_ the energy into one certain kind and stores it in the Zed-PM. That’s why I needed one.”

“There wasn’t one here when you got here?” Radek asks.

Rodney can feel his face heat up, and is grateful for the fact that the flashlights don’t give enough light to see it by. “Uh, yeah, there was one, but uh. Something happened to it. It’s not important. We have one here and it’s good to go.”

Rodney doesn’t give them time to formulate a response. “Hand me the connection cables, would you?” Someone does so, he’s not sure who, and Rodney kneels down and starts feeling along the base of the machine. When he finds what he is looking for, he attaches the cables and stands back up. “There,” he says, “go ahead turn it on.”

He hears the audible _click_ of the generator as it activates, and the machine lights up like a Christmas tree. The whirling sound is louder than a helicopter.

* * *

Elizabeth’s sense of relief nearly takes her breath away when she hears the sound of the Ancient device. She is going home. _They_ are all going home. As one, the four of them step forward, nodding in the dim light to Major Lorne and his men. They brush past the scientists, and Elizabeth can hear Rodney shouting instructions at Radek and the others.

“You all should wait outside the cave when we activate this,” he yells in their direction. “So you don’t get sucked into our reality with us!”

“Yes, of course,” Radek shouts back. From the way the flashlights bob in the darkness, Elizabeth can tell that the scientists are moving back toward the entrance to the cave.

“Time to click our heels together _now_ , McKay?” John bellows. Elizabeth rolls her eyes.

“Activate it, Rodney!” she orders, distracting him from responding to John.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and Elizabeth watches as he reaches out to the device and flips a few switches. Then, just like once before, everything around her seems to _ripple_. Moments later, all is as it was before. The machine shuts off, leaving them in silence.

“Did it work?” Teyla asks.

“No reason it shouldn’t have,” Rodney answers. He points his flashlight behind them and yells out, “Radek? Simpson?”

There is no answer. Elizabeth nearly sags with relief.

“Well,” John says, “shall we get to the Gate and see if Lorne managed to keep the place from burning down while we were gone?” Elizabeth can feel him nudge her with his elbow, and she can’t help but smile.

“A good idea,” she says, but then frowns. “Though,” she adds, “I don’t know how this is all going to fit in the report back to Earth.”

“True,” John replies after a moment. “But we’ll figure something out.”

“We always do,” Ronon mutters as they leave the darkness of the cave for the afternoon sunlight outside.


	4. Epilogue

The setting sun casts an eerie glow over the ocean of New Lantea, alternating red-orange and blue-grey. Elizabeth leans back in her chair, watching the spectacle. Ever since she returned home from her time with the Asurans, she has never been able to fully reconcile this new world with the old one. Altantis had inhabited Lantea for untold millennia. It just never seemed right to her to have the city settled on the waves of another ocean.

“Coffee at this hour?”

Elizabeth looks up to see John standing at the doorway leading from the mess hall to the deck she sat on, eyeing her in that casual manner of his that was both exasperating and endearing. She shakes her head. “Tea.”

He takes her single-word reply as invitation and steps outside. Elizabeth notes that he is carrying a cup of his own as well as a bowl with two spoons sticking out of it. When John sits down, she sees the ice cream in the bowl.

She eyes him. “Cookies and cream?” she asks. “I thought Radek cleaned us out of that a week ago.”

John smirks. “Rodney may have complained about it, but that doesn’t make it true. The marines know how to hide their stashes from the scientists.”

“But not from their commanding officer?” she teases, reaching out for one of the spoons.

“They’re not that good yet.”

The silence between them is a comfortable one as they ate, one born of so many times of sitting together just like this. Or even of times sitting alone and far apart wishing for those times together, Elizabeth suddenly thinks.

When they finish the bowl, Elizabeth leans back in her chair and sighed. “We got the responses to our reports from Earth today,” she tells him, knowing she doesn’t need to specify _which_ reports. There is only one set in the past several weeks that would cause any anxiety.

There is a pause before John replies. “How badly did they hit the roof?”

Elizabeth shrugs. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Much of what the other Atlantis expedition was facing were things we had already surpassed. They’re sure that we’re not two shades from mounting a rebellion, anyway.”

“Then what has you so preoccupied?” There is no uncertainty in John’s voice. He knows she is pensive.

“President Hayes sent a message as well,” she says. “I think alternate realities worry him more than they do the generals and the IOA. I read about the one Colonel Carter experienced before the Asurans attacked Atlantis.” That’s as close as Elizabeth usually gets to alluding to her experiences with the Pegasus Replicators. “It frightened him, I think, to see the depths our country could sink to if things weren’t managed properly. Then he hears about the Asuran conflict being botched so badly that the expedition broke all ties with Earth? He was concerned.”

John nods. “Yeah, I suppose, but remember: they weren’t us.” He shakes his head. “That woman certainly was _not_ you, that’s for damned sure.”

Elizabeth snorts. “No argument here.” Yes, time and distance have led her to abandon the doubts she had felt while watching her double operate in that hellish reality. John is right. That woman had been shaped by experiences just as bad as her own, no matter how different. Elizabeth has a support system at her disposal—friends greater than any she’d ever had before Atlantis—that had been shredded beyond almost all recognition in that other reality. Rodney dead, Teyla dead, _John_ dead. Only Ronon left to rely on for any real guidance and companionship.

She shivers then, and John looks at her closely. “You cold?” he asked her.

“A little,” Elizabeth admits. The night air is growing cooler as the sunlight fades.

He puts his now empty cup in hers before tossing both in the bowl and stands up. “Come on,” he says, “it’s Teyla’s turn to host movie night. She chose _The Lion King_ , if you can believe it.”

Elizabeth laughs as she stands up. “Hakunah matata?”

John’s grin brings a special kind of warmth as they walk back inside. “It means no worries for the rest of your days.”

* * *

The lights are low in the observation area of the isolation room. Weir stands in the shadows, watching the scene in the isolation room unfold. Ronon is getting quite the work-out over this whole thing.

They’d gotten word just a week ago, completely unexpected. Michael was going to meet with a small group of former Wraith worshippers in secret on an abandoned world, hoping to secure an alliance between the two factions. However, one of that group had heard about the enormous price Weir had placed on Michael’s head and had been more than willing to hand his location over. Surprisingly, it had not been difficult for Ronon and Lorne to capture him. They’d had rumors about Michael’s whereabouts before, but Weir had been very pleased to see this one produce results.

She doesn’t flinch when a new trail of blood splatters across Ronon’s chest. He’s been in there for over two hours now, alternating between beating and demanding answers from Michael. The former Wraith hasn’t been very forthcoming as of yet, but even if Ronon does eventually give up to exhaustion, Weir knows there are more waiting in the wings. Lorne is willing, and even Radek has informed her that he has a few tricks that might loosen Michael’s tongue.

She will be happy to see some information come from Michael, but the purpose of capturing him is twofold. End his little operations across Pegasus, yes, but also to exact justice for his murder of Teyla.

Michael’s voice is thick and heavy when he manages to speak between Ronon’s blows. “How the mighty have fallen,” he rasps. Weir watches him look up toward the windows of the observation windows. “Doctor Weir, your hospitality has grown less pleasing since I was last in your fair city.”

Weir contemplates replying, but decides against it. Even if he does know she is watching, she has no desire to engage in a battle of wits with him. There is no point.

Still, he continues, even after Ronon punches him yet again. “Where have your high-minded ideals gone, Doctor Weir? What would Teyla say to such brutality?”

Her fists clench and tremble while Ronon grabs a knife and slashes Michael’s face. How _dare_ he even _speak_ Teyla’s name? Weir thought, furious. He brought this on himself by killing her!

The blood gushes from Michael’s face as Ronon again demands answers from him. Weir leans back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. _Teyla and John would have enjoyed this,_ she thinks.

 _Neither of them shrank from seeing justice done._


End file.
